Romantic Notions
by trisanamcgraw
Summary: My take on what happened the night Buri accompanied Raoul to his greataunt's Midwinter party. Spoilers for SQUIRE.
1. Prologue Of Things To Come

****

Romantic Notions

By Trisana McGraw

PROLOGUE

OF THINGS TO COME

__

Dear Buri,

I hate to ask this of you at the last moment, but I need your help. 

Buri's interest was instantly captured. She continued to read Raoul's letter, wondering what in the Eastern and Southern lands could have her friend asking for her help.

__

You know how Midwinter is linked with family – well, I've been roped into attending a party held by one particularly dour great-aunt of mine; matriarch of my family, you see. Matchmaking mothers are bound to be there too.

He didn't need to say any more. Buri had stood by on more than one occasion in which greedy mothers looking for money and land had attempted to arrange the most ridiculous marriages so their daughter would be Lady of Goldenlake. She had commiserated with Raoul and heard some of the more gruesome stories.

__

Would you be so kind as to come to the party with me? It won't be long, and you have no idea how much it would help me if I came with a lady companion.

Sorry to ask so late, but I hope you can come tonight. I warn you – my family is a nest of vipers, especially Great-Aunt Sebila.

Raoul

What an amusing predicament poor, good-natured Raoul had found himself in, Buri thought as she shook her head. There was only one thing she could say in response to his plea.

-=-=-=-=-

"Sir?" Kel asked, knocking lightly on the doorway to Raoul's study.

The big knight looked up from his paperwork, relieved for the interruption. "Kel, take a seat. You're back early. What did Buri say?"

Kel stepped into the room and took a seat in one of the wooden chairs, shifting until she was more comfortable. "Buri read the note while I stood there," she reported. "She laughed and said she would be glad to come with you."

Raoul heaved a sigh of relief and set down his quill. "Thank you, Mithros," he breathed, gazing heavenward. He looked resignedly at the pile of parchment and maps. "I had better finish this work. After all, Cinder-Raoul must get all the work done before he can go to the ball," he said with a grimace, quoting a much-loved children's bedtime story.

Even Kel's Yamani training couldn't keep her from laughing at the absurd mental image her knight-master presented. She excused herself to her room, where she began to prepare for her own Midwinter celebration. She planned to spend some much-desired time with Yukimi, Lady Haname, and Princess Shinkokami.

At seven o'clock, Kel gathered her things and headed for the Yamani delegation's suite. "Have fun, my lord," she called to Raoul as she was halfway through the door.

Raoul stuck his head out of his room, his hair wet from a recent washing. He snorted and muttered, "Fat chance" before retreating back into his dressing room to change clothes.

-=-=-=-=-


	2. A Sacrifice For Friendship, Part 1

CHAPTER ONE

A SACRIFICE FOR FRIENDSHIP (PART 1)

****

Midwinter, 457 H.E. (Human Era)

Buriram Tourakom watched the small white flakes slowly spiral down outside her window as she waited for her ride. When Keladry had come with a message from her knight-master Raoul of Goldenlake begging Buri's companionship for a dreaded family reunion, Buri had been unable to turn down her friend and comrade. 

Buri shook her head and smirked in amusement. Over the years, she had learned of Raoul's strong dislike of parties and social gatherings. Add to that the greedy matchmaking mothers he was bound to encounter — he had mentioned such horrors other times they had been together — and Buri could see why he needed someone to go with him.

That was what Midwinter was for, anyway: celebration with close friends and family. Buri's only family had died years before protecting Thayet's mother, and the Queen was with King Jonathan and the royal family. So what else was a K'mir to do but help a friend in need?

Buri heard horses' hooves clopping along cobblestones; someone was coming. She opened the door to her suite of rooms and stood in the doorway to watch.

A carriage was rounding the hill, led by four chestnut horses with black manes. On the side of the carriage was the Goldenlake crest, the crest a deep forest green bordered by yellow.

Buri shook her head, a laugh brimming up inside her and almost escaping her lips. Raoul had really gone all-out for the occasion.

The Commander of the Queen's Riders stepped out into full view, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning casually against the doorframe; she looked rather comical, assuming a soldier's stance in a silk dress.

Raoul climbed out of the carriage and carefully made his way across slippery stones to the doorway. He bowed deeply and kissed Buri's hand with exaggerated charm. He straightened up and grinned as Buri covered her mouth with the hand he had kissed; her whole body shook with barely contained laughter.

"Buriram Tourakom, are you ready to depart?" Raoul inquired, somehow keeping a straight face. Buri managed to control herself and nodded, her expression again serious.

Raoul embraced her briefly. As he pulled back, he studied her outfit and nodded approvingly, a grin spreading over his face. Buri had taken advantage of the occasion to wear one of the few dresses she had purchased a few years ago. The silk gown was a royal blue — Thayet had picked it out — and the overcoat was an off-white color that contrasted nicely with her black hair, pinned and braided over her head. Buri owned less than a handful of dresses — she actually felt more comfortable in a dress tunic and hose — but for her friend and his stuffy family she had been willing to suffer one night laced up in an airless gown.

And the star-struck look her companion sent her wasn't bad either. "Buri -- I am rarely awed," Raoul proclaimed, "but at this moment I am very awed."

She rolled her eyes. "You're certainly _odd_, I'll give you that," Buri commented. "Besides, you shouldn't waste your breath. George Cooper already used a line like that, years ago."

Raoul's eyes danced. "I can't get anything past you. But, seriously -- You look great." 

"Thanks," she replied. "So do you." Raoul wore a wine-colored tunic, made from velvet, that was bordered with gold thread. Under the tunic he wore a cream-colored shirt that matched her overcoat, and green hose. As always, his shoulders and chest filled out nicely in the fabric; although, Buri could tell that, like she, Raoul preferred the more comfortable, more forgiving clothes of the working and fighting classes.

Buri glanced around them; the snow was falling more thickly, gathering on their heads and shoulders, and both the horses and the footman were stamping their feet with impatience. "We should get going," she reminded Raoul. 

He nodded sheepishly and gestured toward the carriage. "This way."

Raoul placed his hand on her back and led her to the huge carriage. He helped her inside, then he climbed up behind her and closed the door. The footman kicked the horses into a trot, and the carriage bounced along the streets.

Raoul leaned back against the cushioned seat; he sat across from Buri. "It's only a short distance to Great-aunt Sebila's house, but I figured with the snow, it'd be better to use a carriage. Also, knowing Aunt, she expects me to arrive bedecked in splendor, as befits my station."

"I thought we would ride horses there," Buri said.

"Gods, no!" Raoul burst out in laughter. "Great-aunt Sebila would have a heart attack if she saw such a thing . . ." He trailed off thoughtfully. "It would be quite entertaining — but I couldn't do that to her."

"Well, I would hate to kill your great-aunt at our first meeting," Buri remarked with mock sincerity.

Raoul looked down at his hands, then back up at her. "Buri, thank you for going to so much trouble for me. You probably have so many other things you want to do during the holidays, but you're suffering through a night with my family."

"What are friends for?" she answered with a shrug. "Really, I see it as an adventure."

Raoul leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "That it will be, I can promise you. My family's tough, I'll warn you first off. They're not exactly happy with me because, though I'm Lord Sir Raoul, Knight Commander of the King's Own', blah blah blah, I'm still unmarried. My mother and father want a Lady of Goldenlake and little giants." He shuddered suddenly. "I'm sorry; the thought just caught up with me. Mithros help me stay a bachelor until I die," he muttered under his breath.

Buri shook her head amusedly; Raoul sounded just like a sulky child. Although she was an orphan, she didn't envy him his family. "What am I to do, then?"

Raoul considered for a few moments; the only sound was the clatter of the horses' hooves on stones and the occasional _whuff_ of their breaths in the icy air. "Let's see. You're my lady companion, come to meet my family. It won't be that long," Raoul hastened to assure her. "I'll just have to make an appearance, talk about nothing with my relatives, and hopefully we can get out of there around midnight. Let's just pray they don't take it upon themselves to scrutinize you, or add their comments; they've driven many women away that way.

"Of course," Raoul cocked his head to the side and smiled thoughtfully, "most of the women I've brought to these gathering aren't warriors; most were airheads, I'm ashamed to admit. You're nothing of that."

"Thank the gods," Buri interjected.

Raoul smirked down at the K'mir woman; though they were closer in height when seated, he still stood almost a foot taller than her. "Of course, there is the height issue," he added, his tone teasing. "I have some rather tall relatives, you know."

She snorted and gave him an incredulous stare. "I'll have you know I'm average height for a human, not an immortal," she shot back, and Raoul grinned in spite of himself. Buri continued, "Not everyone is up to your standards, your _high_ness'."

Raoul sniffed lightly in mock self-importance. "Well, that's to be expected. Not everyone can amount to me; why, I _am_ the Giant Killer."

"Takes one to slay one," Buri retorted. This prompted a burst of laughter from him, and Buri leaned back in her seat, content with her victory.

Raoul's laughter died down a few moments later, and he glanced out the window worriedly. He was actually sweating, Buri noted; he wiped his hands on his hose continuously. "I've never seen you so edgy," Buri observed. "What's wrong?"

"Have you ever met my great-aunt?" Buri shook her head. "Then consider yourself lucky." Raoul sighed gloomily. "I mentioned how she's been trying for years to set me up with the right woman; that's only the beginning of my troubles." He muttered something under his breath. 

"Speaking of that," Buri started. "What am I to be? Your wife, lover . . . concubine. . . ." She trailed off with a grimace. "I hope it's nothing worse than that."

Raoul shrugged his broad shoulders. "It doesn't have to be anything that drastic. If you could act as some sort of significant other to me, just for this night, it should pacify Aunt and keep her away from me — for the moment."

Buri grinned and clasped his large hand warmly. "No problem."

As Raoul had said, the trip to Sebila's home took only a short while. Raoul looked out the window for the umpteenth time and sighed resignedly. "We're here," he announced glumly. As the footman opened the carriage door for them, Raoul squared his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath as if he were about to face a terrifying immortal.

"Don't be such a baby," Buri scolded, giving him a playful shove out of the carriage.

Raoul turned to look at her as she ignored the footman's assistance and hopped out of the coach, skirts and all. "You must've had the perfect family," he muttered. He offered her his arm, and Buri linked her arm with his. Raoul plastered a false smile on his face — that much he had learned from his years in court balls — as they entered Sebila's home.

Two heavy doors opened onto a hall decorated with the wildflowers and candles that were present at Midwinter. The doors and walls were draped with garlands of ivy, and red- and green-dyed candles burned in sconces mounted on the stone walls. At the far corner of the room was a table laden with treats and refreshments; at the other corner was a huge hearth in which a large fire crackled merrily. Men and women whose ages ranged from teenage to their sixties milled about, nibbling on sweet marzipan figurines and chattering animatedly.

"Raoul, darling! Let me have a look at you." The voice that reached them from across the room held a regal air, and the remark seemed to be more of a command than anything else.

A woman of at least eighty years swept over to them, draped in layers of forest-green, gauzy material. Buri was at a loss for how a crone of that age could still manage her way over the floor as Raoul's great-aunt had.

There was no doubt that this woman was Raoul's great-aunt Sebila. She had the same dark eyes as Raoul; perhaps her hair had been black as well before it had whitened. Now the remaining wispy strands of white hair were gathered up in a golden hair net adorned by the same transparent material that was on her dress. Her skin was a dark golden-brown, and as tough and creased as a piece of leather. Her eyes were crinkled and narrowed, giving her a look of constant dismay. Permanent wrinkles had been etched into her mouth, giving a harsh look to her small, pursed lips. Buri had a feeling that, just by looking at her, Sebila could live to her nineties or even one hundred. Over her simple green gown, Sebila wore a black shawl etched in crimson thread. 

Sebila was already inspecting Raoul as he gritted his teeth uncomfortably. "You're larger, if that's possible," Sebila remarked, tapping a gnarled finger against her chin thoughtfully. Her voice sounded like a dusty metal gate being dragged through gravel. "You've probably been on more of those outings for the king," she added disdainfully, "where you don't eat enough and fight for no good reason."

"Yes, Aunt," Raoul replied dutifully. It was cute, in some way, to see the brave knight fidgeting under his great-aunt's imperious glare.

"What did you say?" Sebila snapped. "Speak up, boy! You know I hate it when you murmur."

"_Yes, Aunt_," Raoul forced out, his voice louder than usual, between clenched teeth.

"Of course, we don't see each other frequently enough," Sebila went on. "Besides these gatherings and the occasional letter — When was your last letter? Half a year ago? — we never see one another."

"Yes, Aunt," Raoul sighed, making sure his voice was loud enough for Sebila to understand.

"What is with this Yes, Aunt' behavior?" Sebila snapped. "Some knight you are." Her gaze abruptly turned to his companion. "Your manners must be wearing away with these months of traveling with soldiers." Raoul knew from past experience that it was no use to speak back. "You haven't even introduced me to your guest." Sebila sighed and held a hand to her head. "Raoul, what are we to do with you?"

When Raoul's great-aunt turned her commanding glare on Buri, the K'mir was barely able to close her jaw, which had dropped a fraction of an inch in surprise. In the space of a scant two minutes, Sebila had delivered one of the quickest tongue-lashings Buri had seen.

Raoul breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the focus had been taken away from him, but also dreading Sebila's impression of his friend. "Buri, my Great-aunt Sebila of Disart, my sire's aunt. Aunt, Buriram Tourakom, Commander of the Queen's Riders."

Sebila didn't bat an eyelid, but her black gaze searched Buri carefully. "You are in charge of the Queen's fighters; you're one yourself," she finally said, and Buri was uncertain if Raoul's great-aunt approved or not. She nodded.

"Buri was Queen Thayet's closest guard in the years before she married Jon," Raoul added helpfully. "She's a skilled fighter and advisor."

Buri rolled her eyes — she was always edgy when it came to compliments — and nudged Raoul with her elbow. "And a general pain in your rump," she added.

"Always," Raoul returned with a grin.

Sebila watched the back-and-forth with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds like lovers' banter to me," she muttered.

Both stared hard at Sebila, then one another, shocked out of their teasing moods. Raoul coughed loudly, but before he could correct his great-aunt, he closed his mouth. The idea was to make Sebila think they were involved; let her draw her own conclusions, he decided.

"Well, Raoul, it's time to visit with some of your other relatives," Sebila ordered rather than said, towing him away by the sleeve. Raoul shot Buri a helpless look over his shoulder; she shook her head and waved him off. Raoul pursed his mouth and sighed, falling into step beside his great-aunt; he towered over her frail, gauzy figure.

Buri turned her attention to the members of Raoul's family who walked around the large hall or were engaged in conversation with others. Many of the men were large and dark, as Raoul was. Some women also shared his black hair and eyes. Buri wove her way through the crowd of people, brushing past Raoul's relatives to reach the refreshment table. There she poured herself a glass of juice and sipped it slowly.

"Excuse me?" a light voice asked. Buri turned around and came face-to-face with a tall woman half her age, with curly brown hair that fell around her shoulders. She was dressed in a velvety gown of black bordered with silver and pearls that reached to the floor.

"You're here with Raoul?" the brown-haired girl asked, and Buri nodded.

The young lady smiled, and she looked like Raoul. "I'm his niece, Emmalen. Emma for short."

"Buriram; you can call me Buri," the K'mir returned.

Emma laughed, a hearty, throaty sound. "Charming!" she gushed, and Buri swallowed hard to force back her sudden disgust. All resemblance vanished, and she faced another bubbly court lady. Thank the gods this girl was related and wouldn't be considered for marriage to Raoul.

-=-=-=-=-

Raoul suffered through smiling and embracing his relatives, if only to keep Sebila happy as she led him through the hall. It seemed there would be no one who _didn't_ know that Raoul was here. Raoul even began to relax, and he was glad to see some of the more pleasant members of his family.

"Come with me, Raoul," Sebila ordered; as if he had any choice! She led him to a group of gray- and white-haired ladies sitting by the large hearth in one corner of the room. Raoul vaguely recognized the women, but he couldn't place them at the moment. 

As he and Sebila approached, huge identical grins appeared on the ladies' faces, reminding the suddenly uneasy Raoul of cats who have cornered the defenseless mouse. Then, he knew where he had seen these conniving women. They had been at almost all of these family gatherings, but he wasn't related to any one of them.

"_Aunt_," Raoul groaned, dragging the short word into three syllables. He should have known that Sebila wouldn't let him off the hook. Every year, every party, it was the same thing.

"Raoul," Sebila said, completely ignoring her great-nephew's discomfort, "you remember Lady Eva of Maren" — Raoul nodded distractedly — "and her daughter Odessa." A willowy woman of thirty with long, white-blond hair and chocolate brown eyes slipped out from behind her mother and smiled shyly at Raoul. The Knight Commander gulped. 

Odessa curtsied low to the ground and murmured, without meeting Raoul's eyes, "My lord."

This was exactly the reason that Raoul was still unmarried. Sebila didn't seem to realize why he wasn't interested in her choices of women, so he kept getting matched up with ladies like this. They were all too shy, too afraid to say the wrong thing. Raoul preferred a strong-willed woman — or at least one with a will — with whom he could have a real conversation and see eye-to-eye with.

Someone like — Buri. Raoul blinked. He had never considered it, but his friend was the closest he had seen to a woman who was the perfect match for him — well, besides Anara, but she was long gone. The thought of Buri reminded him of what he had to do.

"A pleasure to meet you," he greeted Odessa halfheartedly. "Excuse me," he told the blond woman and her mother, as he hurriedly drew Sebila aside.

"Aunt," he began softly; he was polite enough to keep his voice low so Sebila's guests wouldn't hear. "I . . . appreciate the thought; really, I do. But Buri and I are already —"

Sebila shook her head impatiently. "Buri is a nice woman, but do you really expect a _warrior maid_" — she would have spat the words but for her noble upbringing — "to make a proper wife?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly thinking about marriage right now," Raoul replied. "Aunt, I'm involved with someone, and I don't need you to —"

"You are telling me that you just want to have a good time?" Sebila all but roared, her words reaching all of the guests sitting by the hearth. Raoul saw Odessa's eyes burn with rage, and he winced. He tried to mouth an apology to Odessa, but Sebila yanked his head back down to her.

"Don't ignore me! You can't expect to pick up wenches in bars and live the rest of your life alone, because that's how it will be."

Now it was Raoul's turn to be angry. "What are you implying about Buri?" he all but growled.

"I imply nothing," Sebila replied. "What I am implying is that you need to find a woman who will stay by your side and help you build a family, if it isn't too late for that. Here, I've gathered what will be your last hope for a wife. Odessa is a perfectly lovely girl. There are others, if you prefer older or younger maids. But Raoul, you must make a decision; this is the best you'll ever get."

Odessa turned on one heel and stomped off. Lady Eva hurried after her distraught daughter. _At least,_ Raoul thought with relief, though he still wished he could apologize for his great-aunt, _that's one choice taken care of._

He quickly returned his attention to Sebila, who was bellowing about the disgrace he threatened to bring to his clan. It was exactly as Raoul had told Kel. How had he known what would happen? Why, he'd been suffering through these matches since he had hit thirty years of age, once he was actually considered "aging." When he became thirty-five, Sebila had become even more panicked and had scheduled meetings with nearly every woman in Tortall. Raoul had a feeling that Sebila could and would call on ladies from foreign lands to be his bride if this party didn't find him one.

Sebila was turning purple, and Raoul worriedly clutched her shoulders. "Aunt, please calm down," he begged quietly. "Remember your blood pressure —"

Sebila took a deep breath and smoothed her hands in her skirt. She glared at the crowd that had gathered and barked, "Let us alone!" They bolted like spooked puppies.

Sebila turned her gaze on him again; when she spoke, her voice was so much quieter but just as hard. "Raoul, you must step aside and allow me to find you a suitable wife."

"Aunt, I am a grown man," Raoul protested.

"You're getting on in years," Sebila told him sternly. "If you don't get married, and _soon_, no woman will want you."

"Give me time to find the right woman; she'll want me no matter what," Raoul told her evenly. "Now, I have to get back to my companion." Without another word, he turned and swiftly began to walk back to where he had left Buri.

Sebila watched her great-nephew go, shaking her head at his foolishness. She tightened the black shawl around her shoulders and swept away to speak with some of the other women who had been interested in the prospect of marriage to Raoul.

-=-=-=-=-


	3. A Sacrifice for Friendship, Part 2

CHAPTER ONE

A SACRIFICE FOR FRIENDSHIP (PART 2)

"So — you're here with Raoul?" Emma inquired curiously. Buri answered with a nod. "Are you friends?"

"Yes, we are," Buri answered. 

"He's a really nice man," Emmalen said, and Buri nodded agreement. "I don't think he's mentioned you lately, though," Emma said, her forehead creasing in thought. "He was here last Midwinter, and he didn't say anything about any women he knew. . . ."

"Well, we know each other from our work," Buri said. "The King's Own and the Rider Groups have been in the Grand Progress together," she explained.

"Oh!" Emma exclaimed, one hand flying up to cover her mouth. "Forgive me," she said a moment later, "but I hadn't recognized you. You're Buriram Tourakom, Commander of the Queen's Riders, yes?"

"Yes, I am."

Emma laughed her tittering giggle again. "I'm sorry, Buri. Yes, Raoul has mentioned you and the Rider Groups when he's talked about traveling on the road and other things. Eventually, Aunt Sebila tells him to stop talking about dusty roads and bandits in towns and the like.

"I myself am positively engrossed with the Queen's Riders," Emma continued. Buri blinked, wondering when and how the young woman had taken a breath. "It's an honor to meet you. I was wondering if you would tell me about the Riders. Is it hard to train? Is it true we can't marry if we're part of the Riders?" She pursed her lips. "What about the Queen's ladies? How is that different from Rider life?"

Buri didn't know which question to answer first. One thing she disliked about court parties was the chattering dinner partners she was always paired with. The K'mir was not an avid talker, and she had never enjoyed enthusiastic, rapid-fire speakers. This time, however, she would have to deal with the irritation.

Buri gulped down more of her juice to buy time while she scrambled for an answer. Resigning herself to the proper etiquette, she set her cup aside and began to answer Emmalen's questions, one by one. She told the younger woman about the requirements for the Riders, and the differences between Queen's Riders and Queen's ladies. Emma listened with rapt attention; she seemed sincerely interested in the work of the Riders, Buri noted.

When the chief steward announced that dinner was being served, Buri was spared from further questioning. Relieved, she excused herself from Emma and made her way to Raoul; he was easy to find, because he was as tall as or taller than the other guests.

"Ah, the duties a member of this clan must endure," Raoul murmured when they rejoined. "Thank the gods I only see them every half-year — sometimes it's once every year, if I'm lucky."

They entered the dining room, which was decorated as grandly as the main hall had been. A huge table carved from the finest mahogany stood in the center of the room, piled high with miniature candy creations. At each seat there was a sugar-spun animal decorated with nuts; in the center of the table stood a gigantic cake made in the likeness of an ornamented tree, decorated with swirls of colored sugar frosting.

Raoul courteously seated first Buri, then himself. As the guests settled in their chairs, the servants of the house began to bring in the food. Other young servers poured cups of steaming hot cider to ward off the frigid winter air.

Raoul sat on Buri's right; on her left was a blond stranger. Because he didn't look like anyone else she had seen, Buri guessed that this man was one of the guests family members were allowed to bring. On Raoul's right was a stocky woman with reddish-gold hair that was gathered up in a hair net similar to the one Sebila wore.

A warm potato-and-leek soup was served first. As Buri blew on her spoon to cool off the food, the man next to her leaned over. "Do you hail from Corus?" he asked.

Buri nodded and swallowed her spoonful of soup. She immediately brought another spoonful to her lips, hoping the man would catch the hint that she didn't care to talk.

The blond-haired man tried two more times to start a conversation, failing both times. Finally, he smiled politely and turned to the woman on his other side, with whom he had more success and was soon talking avidly with.

Raoul had also found no luck with his other dinner companion. He turned away from the redhead and found himself staring into Buri's eyes.

She smiled ruefully. "Neither of us makes a good dinner companion."

"I wouldn't say that," Raoul returned. "We just don't talk about fuss and feathers like everyone else." He searched her face, his own expression curious. When he caught her look of disdain, he smirked. "Enjoying yourself?" he taunted.

"Why, of course," she returned, her words dragging with sarcasm. "This is the best family gathering I've been to."

"That bad?" Raoul asked, eyebrows raised. "Are you close to breaking point?"

Buri shook her head and smiled slightly. "It's not _that_ bad."

Raoul winced. "Then it'll get worse; I'm sure of it."

The next course came soon; it was a simple salad adorned with tomatoes and vinaigrette dressing. The other people didn't try more conversation with Raoul and Buri. The two were glad for the lack of attention; they turned toward one another and talked as they ate.

Between courses, the small sugar sculptures were served. Buri was finishing hers — a sculpture of a mythical mermaid perched on a shell — when Raoul pushed his toward her.

"Oh, no thank you," Buri replied, discreetly watching for his reaction. "I would hate to grow fat," she added impishly.

"Don't you start!" Raoul cried. "If you even begin to act like one of those self-conscious, stick-thin psychopaths that I see too many of, I will personally smack you."

"I'm only joking," Buri assured him. "I can't resist sweets." She broke off a piece of the sugar and sucked on it until it melted in her mouth.

"Hey, I was kidding," Raoul announced hastily, trying to snatch the sweet back. He grinned when he had taken it from Buri, and he popped some in his mouth.

Soon the main course arrived, splendidly prepared. It was a huge wild boar; the best kill from a hunt one of Raoul's cousins had participated in, the knight told Buri. The boar lay atop a silver platter, steaming hot from the oven. The aroma of combined spices of all kinds wafted from the meat, filling the room with a pleasant smell that had some stomachs growling.

The food was served and glasses were refilled with drinks, and soon everyone was talking and eating and complimenting the cook.

"So, what do you think of the Grand Progress?" Buri asked Raoul as he cut a piece of meat.

He swirled the piece around in gravy as he thought. "Which part?" he asked. "If it's the riding to different towns and gaining ooh's and aah's from people, I can honestly say that I enjoy it. But if you're talking about the parties, and the different dukes and earls, lords and ladies that we are forced to talk to and act as if we are even remotely interested in their business —" He stopped and saw Buri grin. "Well, you can see which part is my favorite."

"I think it's a good way to show off the royal family to the realm, as well as the Yamani princess," Buri said. She took a bite of meat, mentally appraising the cook for the delicious food. "It makes the marriage easier, if everyone knows their future king and queen. I wonder if our future rulers know each other very much, though. Have Roald and Shinkokami spoken very much?"

Raoul shrugged. "I can't know for sure. But Kel is friends with both of them, and she says that they're just beginning to understand one another. They do have some things in common, thank the gods. But arranged marriages are tough."

"You would know at least some of that," Buri said with a smile and continued to eat. Once the guests had had their fill, their plates were taken away and replaced with desserts made of delicately spun sugar and the like.

Buri leaned back casually against her chair. "Is it true that Jonathan asked Alanna to be his Queen, some time before Thayet and I came to Corus?" she asked.

Raoul grinned, white teeth flashing against his dark complexion. "As true as my name is Raoul. Alanna wasn't expecting Jon's proposal, and she was royally afraid — if you'll excuse the pun. I don't know everything that happened when Jon asked her — neither likes to speak much of it — but she refused him in the desert and continued to refuse him, even though he still held out hope until Thayet came. It was Alanna's idea, you know, for Jon to marry Thayet. And look how well that turned out."

A huddle of musicians began a classic Midwinter song, and people rose from their chairs to approach the dance floor in the middle of the hall. Raoul and Buri remained at the table, like some other guests, and continued to talk. They discussed the Grand Progress some more — their thoughts on where they would go next, and how they would be received by some of their less-than-friendly neighbors. Once the topic was exhausted, they sat in comfortable silence.

Buri watched the couples spinning around on the dance floor; then she looked back at Raoul with an inquiring eyebrow raised.

Raoul stood up from his chair and offered Buri his hand. "May I have this dance?" he offered with a teasing grin.

"I would be honored," she answered, placing her hand in his. Raoul tugged her to her feet and pulled her over to the dance floor. Other couples were already waltzing, mostly people Raoul and Buri's age. A young couple, both in their twenties, talked as they danced. Most of the young people – Raoul's nieces and nephews – hovered near the refreshments table, chattering amongst themselves and taking no notice of anyone else.

Buri draped her arm over Raoul's shoulder as he slipped one arm around her waist. Their other hands remained clasped as they began to dance in the one-two-three, one-two-three step.

Buri noticed Emmalen dancing with a young man wearing a charcoal-gray tunic and white shirt. Emma chattered merrily, and her dance partner didn't do much more than nod politely when she took a breath. Buri was glad that someone else, not her, had to endure speech with the girl.

"Who're you looking at?" Raoul asked. Buri jerked her head in the direction of Emma, and Raoul followed her gaze.

"Ah, I see," he said with a small laugh. "You know those people I mentioned, who like to talk a lot? Emma is like that."

"Oh, definitely," Buri muttered under her breath.

"She's got a good heart," Raoul said. "She's just a bit overly-enthusiastic."

They finished the waltz in silence. Soon, the musicians struck up a livelier dance, and Buri forced Raoul to accompany her on that one.

"Have I mentioned that I don't like to dance?" Raoul reminded her as he twirled her. "I took lessons as a squire, but I never really cared for this part of parties." Of course, the swishing of Buri's skirts was strangely enticing. He blinked and brought his gaze to her face again as Buri stepped back to him.

"I don't know," she said, slinging her arms loosely around his neck. "I rather like watching you be tortured."

Raoul rolled his eyes and looked over her head at the rest of the hall. "Don't look now," he murmured after several heartbeats, "but we've got an audience."

Buri turned her head and caught sight of Sebila, chattering with a group of women her own age, as well as some ladies closer to Raoul's age. They all were watching the two commanders with interest.

"I told you not to look!" Raoul hissed. He shook his head and grinned. "Seems Aunt's at the old matchmaking game yet again. When will she learn that I'm a big boy now and I can find my own wife?"

The faster dance came to an end. Before Raoul and Buri could sneak off the floor, slower music — similar to the waltz of before — started up, and they were hemmed in on all sides by couples dancing close together. They had no choice but to resign themselves to another dance.

The group of women, headed by Sebila, was still watching them. Raoul sent his great-aunt a mild glare; either it didn't reach her or her sight was beginning to fade, because Sebila took no notice. Instead she was speaking to two or three of the five women and occasionally pointing at Raoul to emphasize her point.

Buri looked up at her friend and saw a sly grin spread across his features.

"What say we give them something to talk about?" he suggested. Buri's eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Just follow my lead," Raoul assured her. He bent his head to her level and pressed his cheek against hers. Buri nearly jumped at the close contact of his clean-shaven cheek against her skin.

"Is this all right?" Raoul breathed into her ear. Buri nodded, still clueless as to what he was planning.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, turning her face slightly. Their noses touched, and Buri thought: _This is the closest I've ever gotten to a man without kissing him._

"They won't think to interrupt us if we're in the middle of a kiss," Raoul reasoned, and Buri's heart seemed to beat a slight bit faster. Raoul shifted a fraction so that his body blocked Buri's somewhat, giving the court ladies less of a view of the K'mir.

Raoul didn't kiss her, but his face remained close to hers, giving the illusion of a kiss. Keeping up the pretense, Raoul shamelessly pulled Buri closer to him with one arm around her waist. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and bit her lip to keep from bursting out with laughter. This would be one of the funnier stories to tell Thayet, Buri thought. She reminded herself to tell the Queen about the entire party the next morning.

Their "display of affection" received the attention and the result they had hoped for. Buri sneaked a glance around Raoul and saw that the group of ladies had dispersed. Three remained with Sebila, still watching intently and with expressions of dismay, but the rest wandered off, shaking their heads and drawing their shawls tighter around themselves.

"Is it all right?" Raoul asked, his head still bent.

"It's as fine as it's going to be," Buri replied. "You've still got some admirers, but I think we chased off the less-serious women."

Raoul finally lifted his head, bringing one hand behind him to massage the crick in his neck. "That's something," he commented brightly.

As the song wound to a finish, Raoul and Buri edged their way off the dance floor. Other couples immediately took their place. The song finished, but the crowd of people surrounded them on all sides. It was difficult to push a path through the many guests.

"I must thank you for not one, but three, wonderful dances," Raoul said with all the flourish and charm of a court entertainer. "You kept me on the floor for more than one dance — not many women have been able to do as well."

"You're a better dancer than you think," Buri returned as she tried to brush past a man in a black coat edged with ermine fur.

Someone politely tapped Buri on the shoulder, and she turned to see a slender man her height with dirty-blond hair and hazel eyes. "Would you be so kind as to allow me to cut in, sir?" the man asked Raoul with a bow.

Raoul traded a glance with Buri; it would be impolite and unchivalrous for either to refuse. "Of course," he said, handing Buri off to the man. She sent him a glare, and Raoul shrugged helplessly before threading his way through the crowds to the hearth.

The man struck up a conversation about his studies of magic — he was a mage, working in weather-magic — at one of the best academies in the land. He was also very interested in horses; he knew the different breeds, and he said he enjoyed riding them. Buri smiled and nodded occasionally to show she was listening.

"You dance very well," the man complimented her. Buri smiled and thanked him. Once Thayet had become Queen, she had had to learn the distinctive dances of Corus. Not to be the only one suffering, she had dragged Buri to the lessons with her. The K'mir was secretly glad that the lessons had paid off.

"Yet," the young mage continued, "you have the callouses of an archer." He lifted their clasped hands and lightly touched her tough skin.

Buri shrugged in answer. "Well, we women of the court pride ourselves on being diversified in our skills."

The man smiled in understanding. "Ah. Does that mean you're one of the Queen's ladies? Beautiful but deadly, they say."

"In a sense," Buri answered.

The mage's smile widened into a grin. "And are the Queen's ladies allowed to be involved with men?"

He was flirting with her! Unable to think of a fitting answer, Buri murmured that she didn't know. Luck was with her, because the dance ended soon after, and it was custom for the man to release the lady he had asked to dance.

The mage kissed her hand courteously. Buri excused herself and was able to hurry off the dance floor before he thought to ask her for another dance.

Raoul wasn't at the hearth, where he had been before the next dance started. Buri scanned the room until she caught sight of Raoul dancing with the redheaded woman he had sat next to at dinner.

Buri was surprised that it even mattered to her that Raoul was dancing with another woman. For a moment, she felt a pang of possession. Buri looked away from Raoul and the redhead and firmly told herself that it was only concern for her friend that had her glaring at the other woman.

Buri returned to the refreshment table. Now there was a keg of hot cider, and a young servant handed her a steaming cup. Buri nodded her thanks and blew on the scalding liquid before taking a sip.

The women who had been watching Raoul earlier were now clustered at the table. Sebila was nowhere to be seen. The women were gazing at Raoul, who at the moment was twirling the young woman with red-gold hair.

"You know, he looks rather good for forty," one woman commented; she wore an ice-blue gown covered by a heavy midnight-blue shawl. She had seemed the most interested in Raoul. "After all, he's trained as a knight for so long — he's in excellent shape."

"I wonder if Lord Raoul would be interested in a dance," one lady murmured to herself. "He's already forsaken his other companion for that young thing."

"Well, all the more chance to snag at least one dance with him," the third woman said. 

Buri cleared her throat. When the ladies all looked her way, she set down her cup of cider and gave them stare for stare. The first lady — who had commented on Raoul's age — met her gaze levelly, while the other two flushed pink.

"Excuse us," the third woman said with a small nod. "We mean no offense."

Buri knew from experience that court ladies, who were as nasty as could be, were as insincere as they were rude.

Buri answered the nod with a curt one of her own. "I don't prefer myself or Raoul to be spoken of as such," she said, making her voice as haughty as one of the pompous women she had encountered in her first years at Jonathan's court.

"Begging your pardon," the lead woman said frostily, "but as Lord Raoul hasn't found a wife yet, we didn't think you two were . . . well, that closely involved."

These hawks looked ready to swoop in on the kill. Knowing she had to save Raoul from such opportunistic vultures, Buri prepared a quick story to keep the ladies away from Raoul. As an afterthought, she sent a quick prayer to the Horse Lords that she wouldn't botch this up.

"Well, we are involved," Buri replied, injecting a tone of hurt into her voice. The lady still didn't look convinced, so Buri rushed on, "We're lovers, you know." _Now where did that idea come from?_

The lady arched a dark, pencil-thin eyebrow, her first sign of interest. "You don't say?"

"We have been for some time," Buri continued. "Yes — it was some winters ago, when we were patrolling —"

"We don't need the details, dear," the woman said in a clearly condescending tone. Buri bristled with anger, but she kept a firm hold on her smile and swiftly jumped ahead.

"He really is a sensitive man," she went on. "He's kind, and considerate, and he has a great sense of humor . . ." She trailed off and realized, to her dismay, that rather than be deterred, the women hung on her every word.

"And he's mine," Buri added firmly, hoping the ladies would back off. "Actually, this year was our" — _Second? No, the more years, the better_ — "third anniversary of . . . of being together." The two younger ones, women in their twenties, blinked and drew back the slightest bit. The first woman — Buri's own age — however, still looked unperturbed. 

"How is he as a lover, then?" the woman asked, smoothing her skirts. The ice blue color matched her attitude perfectly, Buri was tempted to say.

"Well — that's very personal," the K'mir said, trying to edge around a subject she knew nothing about.

"But surely you could tell us just one thing," the woman persisted, her smile merely a tiny curl of her lips.

Buri smirked in spite of herself. Here was a way in which she knew she could drive them away; it was their fault for asking, she would say once the ladies fled. Since she was a teenager, she had picked up rowdy bar songs in various low-level towns, and she knew just what details to bring into the conversation.

"As for a lover —" She paused, and the others were deathly silent. "Well, you know what they say about big men . . ." Buri's eyes sparkled wickedly. The younger women coughed delicately and exchanged conspiratorial glances at the mere suggestion.

Yet, they also seemed more interested. Buri started to weave the next part of her tale, and she noticed that the ladies all leaned in close, as if she were confiding in them a secret. "At night, I ride him like a stallion," Buri said in a whisper, fighting to keep from bursting with laughter. Now there rose quiet gasps, and Buri couldn't blame the women for being shocked. She continued with her story, finding that she was quickly warming to her topic. She didn't notice the tiny, green-clad figure sneak up and listen to their conversation.

"We're having a great time together," Buri said by way of a finish, making her voice sound smug, "and I don't think Raoul will be looking for other female companions for a while."

"What did you say?" a creaking voice demanded. Buri spun around, startled, and she was aware of the other women laughing, which they quickly hid behind coughs.

"What profane tales are you saying in my household?" Sebila snapped. "I'll have you know, I have no wish in the world to hear what you have to say about your relationship, if it could be called even that, with my nephew."

Sebila was bellowing again, and Raoul hurried over. "What's going on?" he asked, short of breath, for he had hurried across the room the moment he heard Sebila's voice raise.

Buri's heart sank with a _plop_, and she suddenly regretted everything she had just said. "Oh, gods," she whispered, desperately praying that she would get out of this alive.

"I don't believe you, Raoul," Sebila scolded, "letting your . . . companion tell such tales."

"What are you talking about?" Raoul demanded to know. His gaze snapped to Buri, and she gave the slightest shake of her head; at the moment, she knew that repeating her story would only make things worse.

"What tales?" Raoul asked.

"She was telling these women about less-than-respectable acts that you two engage in," Sebila told him, trying to keep her words as delicate as possible.

Buri winced, but the look Raoul sent her was one of amusement. "Good job," he muttered so only she could hear. But Sebila saw his lips move, and she snapped, "What are you saying?"

"Nothing" was his hurried reply, but Sebila still regarded him disdainfully.

"This is exactly what I told you would happen," Sebila told Raoul. "She isn't fit to be a wife; I'll bet she isn't even a noble."

"Rank has nothing to do with this," Raoul shot back. His voice had gone dangerously quiet, and Buri recognized her friend's mounting anger.

"All she's interested in is a good time," Sebila said. "She'll never be serious. _You deserve better_."

"Buri is my friend, and — and she's close to me," Raoul said, his voice unwavering, his dark eyes snapping with fury. "You will not speak of her that way; not behind her back, and definitely not when she's standing right next to you.

"As for the prospect of marriage, I will figure that out in my own sweet time. I don't need to be poked and prodded, nor do I need you treating me like an infant and doing this for me. _I can take care of myself_," he said, his voice matching Sebila's low anger of a moment before.

This was the trick with Sebila, as Raoul learned right then and there: When she yelled, yell back. Sebila was so stunned that he had stood up to her in such a forcible way that she immediately fell silent.

Raoul was proud of himself, but his anger still simmered furiously. He knew he had to get away from her as quickly as he could and blow off steam.

"Excuse me," Raoul murmured politely. He tugged on Buri's arm, and she willingly followed him outside onto the balcony. The snow had stopped falling, but the grounds were carpeted with white drifts.

"I'm sorry," Raoul said, "but I was having trouble breathing in there. It's so stuffy, with all those egos in just one room."

"Don't be," Buri replied. "To be honest, I don't think I could have lasted much longer with that inquisition in there."

"How was your dance?" Raoul asked, his tone teasing.

"Fine," Buri replied. "Yours?" she shot back. "Is that redhead one of your persistent admirers?"

Raoul grinned. "I think we must not be convincing enough, if both of us have ladies — or men, in your case — so eager to ask for our time."

"Raoul!" a man called, striding over to them with proud, decisive steps. He had neat dark brown hair, tanned skin, and he wore a purple tunic and scarlet hose. On his feet were soft leather shoes with curled toes.

"My cousin Foster, more full of it than a Midwinter goose," Raoul muttered in Buri's ear.

"The old bachelor's at it again, eh?" Foster greeted them as he approached.

Raoul forced a tight, insincere smile. "Hello, Foster."

He went on to make quick introductions. "Buriram Tourakom, Foster of Bugolt Lake. Foster, Buri."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Foster proclaimed, bowing deeply over Buri's hand. He straightened and gave Buri an approving look, his eyes sweeping over her figure briefly.

Foster turned to his cousin. "Did a mid-life crisis strike?" he teased, landing a playful punch on Raoul's arm. The big knight barely felt it, but the flicker in his neutral expression showed that his patience was wearing thin.

"Why else would you have such a young and lovely lady as your companion?" Foster continued, sending Buri another flirtatious wink. She gave him a polite smile tinged with ice; she wasn't in the least bit interested.

"How's your wife, Foster?" Raoul asked pointedly. "How are your children?"

Foster glared at his cousin, looking like a sullen child. They indulged in pointless small talk about the weather — it was snowing; there wasn't much more to say — for some minutes before Foster excused himself, much the same as Raoul had done earlier.

"They say, you can never choose your family," Buri remarked, watching Foster's retreating head.

"It's not so bad with Foster, actually," Raoul replied. "At least with him I can fight – not literally. We duel verbally until one calls it a night and slinks off in defeat. With people like Aunt, though, you can never win."

Buri rested her elbows on the snow-covered railing and leaned forward to survey the houses around them. "It's beautiful out here," she commented softly.

Raoul yanked his thoughts away from griping over his great-aunt and followed Buri's gaze. "The winter is always nice," he agreed, assuming a similar position, with his elbows on the rail.

"Before we came to Corus, we were fleeing our homeland," Buri explained in a quiet voice. "We had to spend a winter foraging for ourselves, barely getting enough to eat. We were forced to make shelter in rocks, where it was always ice-cold, always windy. . . . I learned that summer that while snow is pretty, it can kill you too."

A shiver jolted her stocky frame, and Raoul, immediately concerned, asked, "Are you cold?" She inclined her head in a slight nod. "I could keep you warm, you know," he offered, half teasing, sliding his arm around her waist.

"Oh, could you now?" Buri had meant to tease, but the laughter died in her throat when she looked up and realized Raoul might be serious. For the life of her, Buri couldn't decipher from his carefully neutral expression if he were joking or not.

Before she had a chance to voice a question — she was trying to find the right words — another of Raoul's relatives stepped onto the balcony. He raised a hand in greeting and began walking toward them.

Buri grimaced and looked at the ground again. "We've got another visitor," she informed Raoul.

Raoul looked over her head and grinned when he saw who was approaching. "No need to worry," he assured her, "Milos — another cousin — is the opposite of Foster. He's sort of charming — at least, that's what the ladies say. We're on much better terms than Foster and I."

Raoul's other cousin had straight hair that was as black as a raven's wing, cut under his ears. His eyes were a brilliant emerald-green, and he wore a tunic of the same color to emphasize those eyes. Milos looked to be in his early thirties, but he must have retained some of his boyish looks, because he appeared much younger.

"Milos here is the artistic one of the family," Raoul explained. "He's always had a way with words, and he can sing — unlike other members of his family. Yes, I'm talking about me. Anyway, a knight's life was too gory for him, so he never went to the palace, at least not for training. You could say I was the Alanna and he the Thom of our family."

Milos grinned at the comparison; stories of the famed Trebond twins were legendary. He told Buri, "Of course, having no Gift and therefore no chance at sorcery, I took up a job that I actually had skills for; I'm a bard. Instead of fighting in the King's Own, I get to sing songs about them."

"Then you've probably sung one or two ballads about my companion Buri," Raoul said. "She's part of the Riders."

"Forgive me for not noticing your companion," Milos said first to Raoul. Then, "Buri, was it? It's nice to meet you. Now, please, tell me more," the bard said, directing his words to Buri. He seemed sincerely interested.

"I'm Commander of the Queen's Riders," Buri explained simply.

Milos whistled. "A beautiful lady, who also works for the realm. Raoul, you couldn't have done better." 

He sighed good-naturedly. "I think I hear Sebila calling. Have you already had the pleasure of speaking with dear Aunt?" he asked Raoul.

"Unfortunately, we had to cut our conversation short," Raoul answered with mock regret. "But I will allow you some time to visit with her; I'd hate to keep you from . . . dear Aunt', as you call her."

"That's ever so kind of you," Milos shot back, his eyes dancing. "Be seeing you," he called over his shoulder as he trotted back inside Sebila's house.

Raoul raised his hand in a short wave. As Milos disappeared inside, Raoul dropped his hand and sighed. "At least there are some sweet apples to balance out the rotten ones."

"To add to your metaphor: I think I've met every person in your family tree," Buri commented. "Is there a guest in this party who _hasn't_ come up to greet you?"

"They're a friendly, if huge, lot," Raoul admitted. "We all go off in different directions, as you saw: I, the Knight Commander; Foster, the desk lord; and Milos, the budding poet. And I haven't even started about the women of my family. So, it's actually quite a while before we come together for these holiday parties." He sighed deeply. "Now I remember, all over again, why I despise and enjoy my family, at the same time."

His arm hadn't moved from her waist; Buri leaned against his shoulder. "You can't choose your family, but you end up loving them all the same," she murmured.

"You're right," Raoul agreed ruefully. Upon gazing at her, he caught the sad look that flitted across her features. "Mithros, Buri — I'm sorry. I hadn't thought about . . . your family, and —"

The K'mir smiled; it was bittersweet. "It's all right; really, it is. I think of everyone in Corus as my family, now."

Raoul sneaked a glance into the hall. The music was now wafting through the air in a slow holiday tune, and most of the guests were perched on chairs by the hearth, sipping cider.

"The party's winding down," Raoul reported. "It's already close to midnight; now would be a good time to take our leave."

Together they went inside and began the slow process of pushing their way past Raoul's other relatives toward the doorway. It took them ten minutes alone to say their good-byes and embrace the others. Finally, they reached the heath, where fresh pine logs burned and crackled. Sebila sat by the fire, her shawl wrapped around her bony shoulders for warmth. As they approached her, Sebila looked up and smiled pleasantly; miraculously, all traces of her previous disdain seemed to be erased.

"It's time for Buri and me to go," Raoul told his great-aunt. "Aunt Sebila, thank you for a wonderful party."

"Did you meet some of the ladies who were interested in speaking with you?" Sebila inquired hopefully.

Raoul and Buri traded glances, and he sighed. Nothing would ever stop Sebila, and he would have to deal with the irritation. "Yes," Raoul answered haltingly. It was the truth, after all; he _had_ meet several women, he just hadn't been interested in any one of them.

"Raoul, give Aunt a hug before you leave," Sebila implored, waving her hands impatiently. Raoul nearly bent in two to reach her level, and Sebila wrapped her stick-thin arms around his shoulders, squeezing with a surprisingly strong grip. She kissed him on both cheeks and released him.

"Buriram." Sebila nodded curtly toward Buri, and the K'mir knew it was the best she was going to get from the old woman.

"I'm sorry, Aunt, but we must go now," Raoul repeated. Sebila nodded reluctantly and turned them toward the doorway. Milos popped by to shake Raoul's hand and smile at Buri as servants opened the huge doors and nodded politely.

"Please visit again soon, Raoul!" Sebila called before the doors closed. "You know I love your company." Surprisingly, her voice was sincere.

Raoul threw his hands up in defeat and walked back toward the carriage, which was located right outside Sebila's home. Shaking his head, he helped Buri up and climbed into the carriage behind her. He turned back for another wave to his aunt, then slumped against the plush seating with a sigh.

To no one in particular, he muttered, "Ladies and gentlemen, my great-aunt Sebila."

-=-=-=-=-


	4. Midwinter Luck

CHAPTER TWO

MIDWINTER LUCK

****

Author's Note: A slight warning to the really young kiddies: This chapter is rather suggestive. It's PG-13 for a reason (but nowhere near NC-17, I can assure you), and it's got some suggestive themes. Lots and lots of romantic fluff, you see. Ah well, proceed.

As Sebila's house disappeared over a snow-crested hill, Raoul's bright attitude returned. "Well, our charade' went a bit farther than I had wanted," he said.

"About that." Buri frowned. "I'm sorry. I think I upset your great-aunt — more than once. Also, those women still bothered you."

"Oh, that was nothing." Raoul waved her words away. "As for the other matter, those five ladies were nothing compared to what I usually face at these gatherings. Actually, you brought more life to the party than I expected could be done."

The smile dropped from his face, and he drew in a deep breath. "But when Aunt talked to you that way —" Buri was surprised to see his huge fists clench and unclench. She stared into his face and found that his eyes were stormy.

"Really, it's all right," Buri rushed to assure him, laying a hand on his arm. "I probably deserved it," she admitted, "but it's nothing that should put you out of shape."

Raoul heaved a sigh and nodded, his anger evaporating within moments; he had no temper to speak of. "I know. But I wouldn't let someone — _anyone_, even family — speak like that to someone I —" The rest of his words, still unsaid, caught up to him, and Raoul swallowed thickly and glanced out the window.

"Someone you . . . ?" Buri prompted, curious.

Raoul looked back at her. All other emotion had left his face, and his expression was strangely unreadable. "Someone I count as a dear friend," he finished in a quiet rumble.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, until Buri decided to break it. "I would say that, all in all, this night was a huge adventure," she commented, watching for Raoul's reaction. "New people, new places — even a fight of sorts."

"And Buriram Tourakom, in a dress," Raoul added with a grin, Buri was relieved to see. "Will wonders never cease?"

"It's not such a surprise," Buri retorted. "You saw me in one at the First Night party last Midwinter, anyway."

"That I did," Raoul answered. "How many of those do you own, young lady?" he inquired with a grin.

"Three, actually," Buri shot back.

"I've already seen two, then," Raoul noted. "When will I have the pleasure of seeing you in another?"

"I guess you'll have to take me to another party like this," Buri answered, a mischievous light dancing in her eyes.

Raoul answered her challenge with a broad grin, and a peculiar thought entered Buri's mind: _Were we flirting?_

"Buri," Raoul asked after a moment's silence, "would you like to come inside?" The K'mir started and blinked confusedly. Was it coincidence that he had asked her that when she was having the most uncharacteristic thoughts?

At her puzzled look, Raoul added, "I need to know, so my driver can take you to your rooms — or to mine. You could just stay for a drink," he offered.

Buri thought it over and nodded. "For a little while, all right."

Raoul smiled and leaned out the window to relay the order to the driver. The carriage bumped along over icy cobblestones until it reached Raoul's suite of rooms, located near the barracks in case of an emergency departure with the Own.

Raoul stepped out first and offered his hand to Buri, who took it as she got out of the carriage. Raoul flipped the driver a silver coin, and the man tipped his hat and guided the horses to the stables.

The snow had begun to fall again, and already the stones under their feet were slippery and hard to walk on. The two ran across the yard to Raoul's doorway, snowflakes gathering on their heads and shoulders. Buri stood with her back to Raoul and waited for him to find the key to his rooms.

Suddenly, standing next to Raoul was harder for her than it had ever been before. Buri felt keenly aware of the warmth of his body, a few feet away from hers; in the silence, she could hear his breathing.

The strange thing was, she had been noticing things like this since the beginning of the party. _You were _pretending_ to be Raoul's lover_, Buri reminded herself sternly_. There is no way that anything you said — about the two of us being involved — will ever be true._

And yet — they had been flirting in the carriage, when coming and going to the party. At least, Buri thought they were; it sounded different than their normal, teasing banter. Unless, they had always been flirting and never realizing it. Now that she thought about it, she _could_ be attracted to Raoul; he was a good man, not at all arrogant, a good sense of humor -- 

__

Stop it, Buri told herself firmly. Her head was starting to ache with this buildup of unexpected and puzzling thoughts. _I'm not an idealist, and I won't begin to act like one. There is no way Raoul is having the same romantic thoughts as me._

She turned around to ask what was taking so long, and Raoul leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

__

Or maybe he is.

Over the years, Buri had learned what she thought was everything about Raoul, from his sense of humor to his ridiculous adherence to chivalry. But this – this was a whole new side to her large friend. Of course, Buri had been present at times when Raoul had been involved with women, but she had never taken notice of his actions when it came to romance.

Buri's eyes widened; but something stopped her from pulling away, and she slowly closed her eyes and surrendered. The kiss itself, however unexpected, was amazing in its power and fervor. Raoul's lips pressed firmly on her own, but not too hard. Warmth spread from his mouth to hers, and with it, a strange feeling of excitement. The heat of his kiss awakened a spark in her, and Buri found herself responding with ardor. Her mind failed to work, and she had no knowledge that this was Raoul, Knight Commander of the King's Own as well as close friend and companion. No; the man who kissed her was an attractive – though it had never crossed her mind before – knight who was interested in her as something more than a friend.

Raoul wrapped his arms around Buri and pulled her snugly against his body. She gave a gasp, which was followed by an involuntary moan as she felt Raoul's hard, muscled chest under the fabric of his tunic. His hands traveled up and down her back in slow, gentle strokes before coming to rest on her arms, clutching her against him – surprisingly, Buri had no wish to move away.

They broke the kiss but remained in their embrace, their breaths steaming in the frigid air as they took in deep gulps of oxygen. Raoul's hands still gripped Buri's arms, and she was well aware of the foolish grin that was plastered on her face.

With an effort she tried to calm the fluttering in her body. Once she trusted her voice, she accused, "I bet you've been planning that all night."

Raoul wore the same goofy smile. "Actually, I thought of it about two moments ago." He wet his lips and added, "Well — I've been thinking about us" — _Us?_ Buri wondered — "since the party began, but I just had the idea to kiss you —"

Buri would have laughed out loud had she not been worried about ruining the moment. Shy Raoul — though he had rarely acted as such around her — was chattering senselessly! Buri raised herself on her toes and gave him a peck on the lips, effectively silencing him. Raoul seemed to take this as encouragement, and slid his mouth over hers again. Buri settled into the increasingly familiar cradle of his arms. Without realizing it, her hands moved up his chest, gently caressing, to his neck. They drew their lips away for a fraction of a second; then, seeing no reproach in either person's eyes, they kissed again, gaining zeal as they continued. The spark in Buri's body was steadily being nursed to a flame. Raoul placed his hands on her lower back, and the flame flared strongly, sending warmth shooting through Buri's limbs.

She surprised and disgusted herself with her lovesick reaction – _But why?_ part of her questioned. _He wants me as much as I want him; it's not as if one of us is forcing the other._ That part of her aside, soon one thing would lead to another, and Buri had to leave before things progressed that far.

Buri pushed, gently but firmly, against Raoul's chest. He sent her a look of concern, and Buri met his eyes. Though they were darkened with passion, he was still in control of his feelings. Buri knew that he would never do anything she didn't want.

She swallowed, enjoying the taste of him still lingering on her mouth. "I should go back home," she finally said.

"You don't have to leave." His piercing gaze caught her eyes and held her in place as firmly as his hands had grasped her arms.

Her hand smoothed a wrinkle in his tunic as she tried to make sense of her whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. "I don't want to leave," Buri admitted in a whisper, and Raoul swept her up in another heated kiss.

Yet, they still hesitated. When they broke away again, both saw the indecision mirrored in the eyes of the other. It was true that they both wanted this, but the result could ruin the relationship they had built up over the years. They had a strong, resilient friendship – but it seemed a tiny, fragile thing compared to the heat of this moment.

The rational part of Buri's mind spoke up then, telling her what she had always known but never really thought about: Raoul was honest, and not one to toy with a woman's emotions. She had known him long enough to be aware that he would never trick anyone – least of all her – into bed. With a sharp intake of breath, Buri realized that this wasn't a game; Raoul sincerely meant everything that had passed between them in the last few minutes.

Raoul cupped her face in his hand. "This is all right for us to do." Was he trying to convince her? Or himself? "We're both consenting adults," he whispered. "That is, if – Do you consent?"

As an answer, Buri kissed him soundly. Raoul held her tightly and responded with a deep kiss. His passion crested over Buri in powerful waves, causing her to tremble. He had been holding back before, keeping his emotions in check so he wouldn't force this on her. That made their next kiss all the sweeter.

Small white flakes lazily floated to the ground as they kissed heatedly in the doorway, each craving further exploration of the other. Raoul pulled his key out of his pocket and fumbled to place it in the lock, his deft fingers unusually clumsy.

With an effort, Raoul opened the door, and they stumbled inside Raoul's pitch-black study. He broke the kiss suddenly, with a whispered, "Kel."

Trying to catch her breath, Buri raised a questioning eyebrow. "Should I be worried that you have your squire on your mind at a time like this?"

Raoul laughed, a smile spreading over his face. "Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that. For all we know, Kel could be next door. I want to make sure she isn't . . ." Buri waited in Raoul's study, hands on hips, until he returned, shaking his head. "She must be out with the Yamanis; it's Midwinter, after all."

"That leaves us alone," Buri whispered, her hand returning to the back of his neck. Raoul didn't hesitate to lean his face down so he could touch his mouth to hers again. Buri returned the intensity of his kiss and wrapped both her arms around his broad shoulders. As the kiss deepened, their actions grew bolder. One of Buri's hands began to stroke through Raoul's hair, and he lifted her onto his desk. There was a rustling as several sheets of parchment fluttered to the ground, disturbed by Buri's abrupt seating on the wooden surface. Neither noticed. Buri gave a quiet gasp when Raoul's hand slipped under her skirts and grazed her thigh.

They pulled back at the same time. Raoul was panting, and his black eyes stared past Buri for several moments before re-focusing on her face. "Let's continue this somewhere else," he whispered, and she nodded breathlessly.

Raoul took Buri by the hand and led her through the dining room, to his private chamber. As they reached the doorway, they fell back into a frenzied embrace. Buri's quick hands found the fastening to Raoul's tunic, and she began to tug it off his body. 

"Into the room," Raoul gasped when they were forced to come up for air, "before we undress each other here." They made it inside, and Raoul reluctantly pulled away to light a branch of candles. Their light gave his bedroom a steady glow. When he looked at Buri, a gasp slipped from his lips. She looked ethereal and holy, surrounded by orange light.

His body several steps ahead of his brain, he pulled her back to him by her waist. Buri gladly accepted his embrace, and more heated kisses followed as their hands began to move again. She succeeded in pulling off his tunic and throwing it in a corner. She then amused herself by tracing patterns over his chest, learning the contours of his muscles and skin.

Raoul matched her passion, his hands starting on her back and trailing down until he reached the laces of her bodice. Buri grabbed his hands then, and Raoul broke the kiss to look down into her eyes. There was no anger or reproach, just a twinkle of mischief in her black eyes.

Buri stepped back a few paces, into the pool of candlelight. She turned around, her back to Raoul. He watched her, confused, searching for any sign that he had offended her. But again, Buri wasn't in the wrong mood. 

Buri looked over her shoulder at him, and their eyes locked. The look in her eyes was one Raoul had seen in many women, some he had had as lovers, but he would never have expected to see it in Buri. 

She kept her hands in front of her chest, out of Raoul's sight. Nothing happened for several moments, until he realized that Buri was unlacing her dress. Mesmerized, he watched the sapphire-blue material slide over her shoulders, leaving them bare. Buri quickly but carefully slipped the dress off, and she turned to face him again. She reached up one hand and pulled the pins out of her hair. There were only a few, and a moment later her long black hair dropped to gently brush against her neck and shoulders. She wore only her breastband and loincloth. The contrast of her tanned skin and the white material of her undergarments, combined with the ghostly candlelight, made her appear to glow.

Buri slowly approached Raoul, an alluring smile on her face. She placed her hands on his bare chest again and leaned into kiss him. He let out a small moan and grabbed her arms with his big hands. He held her firmly against him as Buri's steady hands worked to unlatch his belt. Raoul easily stepped out of his hose, pulling Buri's body closer to his. Now it was her turn to cry out softly, and he felt her heart pounding against his chest.

They slowly drew away again to study one another. Both wore only their undergarments. Black eyes locked on black, filled with the same intentions. 

Their mouths joined for another passionate kiss. Buri let her hands wander along Raoul's chest until they reached his hip. Glancing up at him through her eyelashes, she fiddled with the edges of his loincloth.

"I'm tingling with anticipation," she whispered. It was the first time either had spoken for some time, and her voice was low and husky. "Are you going to keep me waiting?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Raoul answered, deadly serious. He bent his head to kiss her throat hungrily, eliciting a moan. The cord of a necklace was in his way, and Raoul brushed it aside. He paused when he saw the golden letter that would have been unrecognizable had he not learned about it from other women he had encountered.

"Charm against pregnancy," he murmured, resuming his actions on Buri's neck. "Seems every woman's got one." Buri just laughed and swatted his hand away.

Raoul raised his head again, and Buri accepted his burning kiss with ardor. "I know how impatient you can get," Raoul reminded her in gasps between their kisses.

"As can you," she retorted. Her breath quickened when she looked up into his eyes and saw the lust there. Their banter came to an abrupt halt, as other things quickly became more important.

-=-=-=-=-

Buri clung to Raoul's body in the aftermath of their coupling, as they waited for their breathing to slow. Raoul stroked her back with his calloused hands, and he whispered "Buri" against her lips. She pressed her face against his sweaty neck, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

After a time, Raoul slipped out of the tangle of their bodies and went around his study to blow out the candles. Buri slowly raised herself on one elbow and watched him move around the room, a dark shape against the descending blackness.

Raoul sat down lightly on the edge of his bed and turned his head to hers. Even in the darkness, Buri could feel his calm, steady gaze probing her.

She crawled over to Raoul and tentatively stroked his cheek with one hand. Feeling bolder, Buri threw her arms around his neck and kissed him warmly. Raoul pulled her down on top of him, and the all-consuming passion overtook them for a second time.

-=-=-=-=-

The faint sound of a door opening caused Buri to turn her head. There was no more noise, however, and she resettled her head on Raoul's shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply was comforting.

She'd always known Raoul to be a steady friend, but she'd never expected to find that in him as a lover. Actually, she hadn't known _what_ to expect. They had been friends for years, with everything they had in common: they were both fighters, both free spirits, both loved the rulers they served. They had made it through countless skirmishes and battles and had grown from comrades to real friends. 

That was why Buri had agreed to come along to the party -- to help her friend. They had always been there for each other, through easy and hard times. But now the tables had been turned, and she wasn't sure if she should enjoy this change or fight to return to their platonic relationship.

Raoul was kind and generous. Yet his passion burned hungrily like a flame and could not be doused for a long time. When they were finally spent, he held her close to him and whispered tender endearments in her ear while he kissed her neck and shoulder. He was honest and considerate. Raoul was one of the few good men (though she had met many more once she had come to Corus) who honored women as more than possessions. And he had certainly honored her this night, Buri thought with a quiet laugh. She had heard that he was good to women, but she had never guessed that he was _this_ good!

So here they lay, twisted with each other and the blankets. One of Raoul's large hands rested possessively on her hip, and Buri pressed her face to his chest to breathe in the aroma of sweat and even her own scent that lingered on him.

"What is it?" Raoul asked, his deep voice even clearer in the stillness of the night.

Buri tilted her head back to look him in the eye, but most of his face was hidden in darkness. "I thought you were asleep."

"Haven't you heard? I don't sleep. I don't know how anyone has time to, in this busy realm."

Buri laughed, filled with warmth and comfort that she was surprised she could still find with her friend-turned-lover. Her heart sank, and with it her good mood, as she considered her own thoughts. How would they continue their relationship after the events of this Midwinter night? They had gotten more than a little carried away, and at the moment she couldn't think of how they would face each other after —

Raoul nudged her, shaking Buri out of her thoughts. "I know you, Buri. What is it?"

Buri sighed unhappily; half of her wished she weren't speaking, that she would not ruin this moment. "What's next?" she finally whispered.

The hand on her hip traced a path up her side and to her face, brushing back her hair with a gentle tenderness. "I was thinking, we could have a few more bouts of lovemaking, then maybe —"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Raoul," Buri scolded, holding back the urge to giggle. "What do we do after this?" she asked. "Are we still friends, or . . ."

"We're always friends," Raoul said firmly. "Nothing can or will change that. But, after tonight . . ." He sighed deeply and gazed at the woman lying beside him. "I don't think I could settle for only friendship between us."

Buri smiled, though Raoul couldn't see it. "Neither could I."

"In the morning, we can talk about the interesting position we've found ourselves in," Raoul decided, and Buri nodded in agreement. His arm encircled her, and Buri curled her body closer to his, placing her hands on his chest.

They lay together in comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Buri felt Raoul's chest trembling, and she realized he was chuckling quietly.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Kel said you wouldn't get any romantic notions," he replied, and Buri couldn't help but smile too.

"And do you always listen to Kel?" she inquired teasingly.

"She suggested that I bring you as my guest to the party," Raoul retorted.

"Well, then, gods bless her," Buri smirked.

A door slammed open, shattering the still silence of the night. Raoul and Buri, reflexes sharpened by fighting, sat up at the same time. They looked wildly around the pitch-black room, then exchanged confused glances.

"Bitch!" a man screamed; it was the raw yell of grief, pain, and murderous intentions. There was a shrieking of sparrows and what sounded like Jump's barks. The animals' noises were followed by "Trollop, you killed my boy!" accompanied by a series of guttural curses.

Raoul shoved the covers off his body and slid to the edge of his bed. He groped around on the floor until he found his sword; soundlessly he slid it out of the sheath. The cold gray metal glinted dangerously as he stood up.

Buri tossed him his loincloth. "Here." After a moment, Raoul nodded distractedly and pulled on the undergarment.

Buri whipped a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders as she dug around in her pile of clothes. She eventually found the small dagger she kept in case of an emergency. By the time she stood up, Raoul had already made it to the door and had opened it a fraction. Light from his study streamed in through the crack, and Buri ran to his side.

Together, they stepped into Raoul's study, but no one was there. Someone had lit a branch of candles that illuminated the room. The adjoining door to Kel's room was closed, but they could hear the man's screams coming from it.

Raoul flung open the door and stepped into Kel's room, Buri at his elbow. All eyes turned to them: Kel, two grief-stricken people with tear-stained faces, and the man who had screamed, now clawing at the sparrows that covered his face. The pale blue light that streamed in through an opened window illuminated the whole scene; Raoul was surprised to note that it was dawn.

"Birds, move," ordered Raoul. The sparrows flew off the man's face and alighted on Kel's shoulders, allowing Raoul to grab the man by his tunic and slam him against the wall. The knight ordered Jump to let go as well; with reluctance, Jump backed off.

It wasn't until he saw the man's tangled white-blond hair that Raoul recognized Joren of Stone Mountain's father. Raoul's stomach plummeted with a heavy feeling of dread as he remembered that Joren's Ordeal had been that night.

While Raoul held Burchard of Stone Mountain firmly against the wall, the man's wife and brother explained how the Chamber had opened on Joren's corpse. Burchard sent several curses Kel's way, only to be silenced by a furious shake from Raoul.

"Go bury your boy," Raoul finally ordered Burchard, flinging him to the ground. He understood and sympathized with those who grieved, but he knew he would not be able to tolerate any more insults to his squire's honor and his own. Almost trembling with rage, he didn't put down his sword until the three adults had left. His white-hot anger suddenly left him, and he dropped his sword to the floor and rubbed his face.

"Gods, I need a drink," he murmured.

"Shall I get you one?" Kel asked.

"Not the kind I meant," Raoul told her, "if you don't mind. Juice, water — no liquor. It turns me into someone I don't like." Kel nodded as she pulled her clothes on over her nightgown. She was visibly trembling.

Raoul didn't want Kel to take Burchard's words to heart. However, as he, Kel, and Buri discussed the matter, Kel's coming _had_ changed Joren. The Chamber had brought out the real side of him that only Kel had known, and now he had paid for it.

The excitement of the night — well, half of it, at least — over, Buri began to walk back into Raoul's study. "I am going back to bed," she said, glancing pointedly at him. "Well?"

Raoul grinned. Things were looking up after all. After saying good night to Kel, he followed Buri into his study and closed the door behind them.

Buri sat down heavily on Raoul's bed. She had wrapped the blanket around herself like a toga. He sat across from her, and they regarded each other silently.

There was a knock on the door to his study. "Sir?" 

Raoul looked away from Buri. "Come in, Kel."

Kel entered, bearing a tray with two cups and a pitcher. "Is fruit juice all right, my lord?"

Raoul smiled. "Perfect. Thank you, Kel." She turned to go. "Oh, Buri — would you prefer something stronger?" Raoul asked.

The K'mir shook her head. She knew about Raoul's strong dislike of alcohol, because of a past incident. "Fruit juice is fine. Thanks, Kel." The squire smiled and nodded; then she left, closing the door to the study again.

"She's a good girl," Raoul said. "Got to love that Yamani calm — she didn't even bat an eye when she saw us."

Raoul poured a cup for Buri, then himself, and handed her drink to her. She accepted it with a smile, then suddenly became interested in the juice. Raoul sighed, swallowed his drink in one gulp, and set to pouring himself another one.

Buri finished her cup but didn't refill it. "What about —" she started, but Raoul leaned forward and placed his fingers on her lips.

"Not now," he whispered, letting his hand drop. "In the morning, we'll talk about it." Buri looked up and met his eyes. Without looking away, she nodded.

"It's about dawn, you know," Raoul informed her as he stood up from the bed. "You might want to get some sleep, though; no one will miss you if you sleep in."

Raoul placed the cups and pitcher back on the tray and carried it to the door. He then returned to his room, where Buri was climbing into the bed. Without a word, Raoul got in on the other side and settled himself. Buri didn't speak but lay down as well, with her back to him. They weren't completely naked, as they had been before; now clothed, there were barriers between them.

"Good night," Buri whispered.

Raoul slid an arm around her and drew her against him. Buri considered pulling away from his warm body — then she wondered, _What's the use?_

"Good night," Raoul said, and kissed her cheek; a friendly kiss, though the arm he held around her suggested otherwise.

Buri found herself grabbing his hand and twining her fingers with his. Her heart fluttered when his fingers touched hers, and again she felt comfort from his presence, so close to her.

__

Maybe I'm just giddy, she chastised herself.

__

But it feels so right.

-=-=-=-=-

One thing Raoul loved about Midwinter was the opportunity to sleep in. What with the errands for the kingdom that the Own performed, as well as his regular schedule during the year, he gratefully took advantage of any late mornings.

Raoul lifted his head from his pillow, surveyed the room, and prepared to close his eyes again when he noticed that he wasn't alone in his bed. A tanned leg hung off the other side of the bed, and he could see the small form of Buri's body hidden under the blankets she had twisted around herself in her sleep.

Raoul sat up and blinked slowly, his mind taking several extra moments to catch up. Memories of the previous night returned to him quickly, and suddenly he remembered why his best female friend was asleep, not to mention nude, in his bed at ten o'clock in the morning.

Raoul clasped his hands under his chin and expelled a breath of air. "Oh, wow," he whispered to himself, sneaking a glance at his new lover. The previous night had swiftly climbed his list of eventful things, topped only by the times he'd fought a giant and a monstrous serpent, and the time Alanna had revealed her true sex. Raoul grinned and slowly shook his head, actually amused by the situation.

Raoul paused before getting out of bed, listening to Buri's steady breathing. He vaguely remembered falling asleep with one arm wrapped around Buri's waist and her small hand clasped in his own. Now their hands were no longer joined, but he could feel the warmth of her body still lying next to his.

With a reluctant sigh, Raoul hoisted his body out of the rumpled bed and headed for the privy and his dressing room. After a quick, not to mention cold, wash, Raoul dressed in a comfortable linen shirt, black breeches, and sturdy black boots.

Kel had left a note explaining that she had gone out to train with Peachblossom and visit her friends. Raoul suspected that his squire had made up the excuse to give him and Buri time to talk. Or, maybe she hadn't wanted to see the two half-clothed adults the morning after. Come to think of it, it would have been a very embarrassing experience for all.

Thanking the gods for Kel's good sense, Raoul re-entered his bedroom. He stopped short, his mouth suddenly dry.

Buri stood by the bed with its wrinkled sheets and pillows, a thick blanket wrapped around her. Her dark, tangled hair streamed over her bare shoulders. Her only other article of clothing was her loincloth.

At that moment, Buri could rival the Great Mother Goddess herself, Raoul was sure. He willed himself to swallow so he could have some hope of speaking, as he regarded her with unrestrained admiration.

Buri broke the silence by tightening the blanket around her torso with an uncharacteristically shy smile. "Good morning," she murmured, but her eyes locked with Raoul's.

"Morning," he echoed softly. Unable to bear the distance between them at the moment, he swiftly strode forward and hugged her tightly. Even now he was unsure of what to do; it wasn't a feeling he was used to.

Buri rested her head against his chest and sighed in relief. She had been afraid that, after their night together, their friendship would be ruined. But things were as good as they had always been, perhaps better. 

Raoul had given her his word. And he always kept it.

"How did you sleep?" the big knight asked, and Buri looked into his face. He had the gentlest smile, and his eyes were warm. Buri felt indescribably safe in his arms at that moment; she knew he would never do anything to hurt her.

"Fine. Better than fine," she answered, a smile appearing on her face. "You?"

He whistled softly. "Great. Absolutely great."

All other words died in their throats; they were relieved that there were no problems, but neither had any idea what to say next. Buri dropped her gaze to the ground, and she noticed Raoul scuffing the floor with his boot.

Buri sent herself a smarting mental smack and gathered the courage to look back up. Raoul's face brightened when their eyes locked again.

"I'm sorry," Buri said softly. "I'm acting like a lovesick teenager," she explained as she silently berated herself; "as if I've never had experience with these things."

"You don't have to apologize," Raoul hastily replied. "I'm not able to say much either," he said with a rueful smile.

Buri sighed through gritted teeth. "I don't know exactly how to go about this," she admitted, her shoulders slumping. A new idea presented itself to her, and Buri rushed on, "Do you want time to think about it? This is new, and different —"

Raoul kissed her, and it was as warm and fierce as their first. "I _want_ things to be different," he whispered. "This should be special, and it will be, if you want it."

Buri was overcome by the emotion she saw in his eyes. "I do want this," she found herself proclaiming. "Gods, I want this." Raoul took in a breath sharply and kissed her passionately; this kiss was the roughest so far.

Buri trembled, momentarily giving in to the urgency of his kiss. It was only a few steps to the bed, she realized. Besides, she was almost undressed, as it was. Her hand tightened in his shirt, but she willed herself to release her grip on the garment.

"Mm . . . not now," she gasped softly, breaking the kiss. "We can't . . . not now," she repeated, unsure if she made any sense.

She could see regret in his eyes, but also reluctant agreement. "All right. I hope to see you again," Raoul murmured.

Buri clasped his hand. "I'm sure you will," she replied with a twinkle in her eyes. The smile dropped from her face, and she sighed. "I had better be leaving, before the castle gossips have time to make up rumors about us."

Raoul nodded, smiling ruefully. He waited in his study, giving Buri privacy to dress. She emerged a few minutes later, carrying a bundle with her extra hairpins and the like. She was dressed in the clothes she had worn the night before.

Buri stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Good-bye, Raoul." She stopped at the door to his chambers and turned back, a mischievous grin on her face. "By the way -- last night was incredible." She turned and left his room, quickly stepping outside and running through the slush back to the palace.

Raoul stood still, contemplating Buri's words. His face split into a huge grin of male satisfaction. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he set to righting his desk, his step considerably lighter.

-=-=-=-=-

If Thayet knew why Buri had returned in the morning, wearing the same gown as the night before, with her hair in tangled disarray, she didn't let on.

The Queen bit her lip to hide her laughter as her friend stepped into her room. "The party was better than you thought, hmm?" she called as Buri began setting up a bath for herself.

Buri leaned back in the steaming water and sighed as the heat helped to drive some of the cold from her bones — like a certain knight had done. "Much better."

-=-=-=-=-


End file.
